


Conditional Iteration

by Beleriandings



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Series 03 Fix-It: Children of Earth (Torchwood), Temporary Character Death, Time Loop, seriously a lot of temporary character death but emphasis on the temporary part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: Gwen can only watch, helpless and raging and grieving, as Jack and Ianto die in Thames House.The next moment though, she finds herself pulled out of time, back to the moment it all started to go wrong.Maybe second chances aren't in quite such short supply as she thought.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 119
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Blanket content warnings for (temporary) suicide and discussion thereof, violence, temporary character death, and basically just all the canon-typical dark themes and imagery of Children of Earth. 
> 
> (For all that though, I promise this will be a fix-it fic. Eventually.)

Gwen landed hard on her side on the paving stones, her head ringing with the sound of the explosion. Or perhaps that was the sirens; she had the vague impression that there were sirens, ringing in the distance. Fire alarms, maybe? Or perhaps that was just her imagination. Maybe she'd hit her head, maybe she was hearing things, _maybe_ …

She shook her head, remembering where she was with a bolt of panic. _Jack_ , was her first thought, her heart contracting with sympathetic pain; there was a bomb inside him, it would tear him apart, and….

...And... _Ianto_. She gritted her teeth, sitting up so fast her head spun, and craning around for him. She hoped Ianto had got out; it was all too easy to picture him stubbornly staying behind with Jack and dying with him, much good as it would do.

She heard a sound permeate her awareness; a siren coming closer, voices, the engine of a vehicle coming to a halt. An ambulance, she saw with listing vision.

Maybe that was what she needed, she thought. Maybe they could help her, help her find Ianto if he'd made it out. She couldn't bring herself to contemplate the alternative. Instead, she concentrated on that; she'd find Ianto, and maybe by then Jack would be back, and then they could figure out who had done this.

And in the meantime, an ambulance sounded nice. She straightened up, and began to lurch towards the sound.

One way or the other, they were going to fix this.

* * *

Four days later, Gwen let go of Clem's limp body, dead in her arms with blood flowing from his ears and nose. Tears were running down her face as she laid him down gently on the crate beside her.

But the worst part was, her mind was only barely half on the man who had just died in her arms.

She could still hear the crackly, distorted audio feed from Thames House, not that she wanted to. She knew exactly what had happened; they couldn't get out, the building was sealed.

There was nothing she could do for Jack or Ianto, dying together on the flag stones. They were dying right now, and Jack would be back but Ianto wouldn’t. Her friend was dying, and there was not a single thing she could do to stop it.

But even as she had the thought, her vision began to blur, and not only with tears. Another moment later, Gwen was crying out in alarm as reality – or perhaps her awareness of it, not that she was in much of a fit state to make the distinction right now – began to crumple in on itself, imploding into a nothing that went beyond darkness, passing through to the void, no space or time at all.

The warehouse faded around her, the crate she was sitting on and Clem’s body beside her disappearing, and for a moment Gwen felt pulled in every direction at once, until–

Until it was over, and she found herself hurled against the hard ground as behind her, something roared and thundered with a vast explosion of force.  
  
Gwen blinked, stunned and gasping, lying where she'd been flung against the paving stones. She could feel the roll of heat off the explosion behind her, hear the first sirens begin to wail. She felt a sickening wave of familiarity, a bizarre and intense sort of déja vu.

She sat up, whimpering with pain and disorientation; what had happened? Surely she’d been in the warehouse, the world crumpling around her, but it didn't matter, did it, because it was already over... Clem had been lying dead beside her, and Jack and Ianto–  
  
_Ianto_. The thought hit her with force, making tears coming stinging to her eyes to blur her vision. He was dead, her best friend, and she'd been helpless.  
  
And then Gwen’s train of thought derailed utterly, as she realised she wasn't where she thought she was.  
  
Furthermore, to her very great surprise, she knew exactly where she was; despite the fire and destruction, she recognised it immediately.  
  
Because, she realised, she was back in Cardiff again. Roald Dahl Plass, looking exactly as it had in the moments after the Hub had been blown up. She had no idea how, or why, but she knew one thing. Or rather, she couldn't help but hope.  
  
Because if she was here, if it somehow had all been a dream, then that meant Ianto might still be alive.  
  
That was enough to make Gwen pull herself painfully up to her feet, hand going to her stomach as she remembered. Mentally apologising to the growing embryo inside her – and God, she thought, three weeks pregnant and she was already giving her future child a rough lesson in what life was like with Torchwood – she straightened up, wincing at the way her head spun, the pain in her bruised limbs.  
  
It had hurt differently, a few minutes before when she'd been sitting on the crate in the warehouse. Bruises a few days old hurt in a distinct way compared to new ones, but they still ached. Now her body stung like the wounds were fresh, dizziness washing over her. Maybe she had a concussion, or maybe she was in shock. Maybe she was dreaming, hallucinating, _or maybe_....  
  
She was jolted out of her thoughts by a quiet cry of pain, not too far away. Then a much louder, much closer series of sounds: a siren, voices shouting and a vehicle coming to a screeching halt.

It was then, belatedly, that she remembered the ambulance that had come for her before.  
  
And either she had severe déja vu, or this was some kind of dream, or else _that_ had been a dream, or...  
  
_Or what?_  
  
Or, she quickly answered herself with a slight shudder, it really was happening again.  
  
Once in her life, she might have thought such an idea ridiculous. But this was Torchwood; anything was possible.  
  
That thought, and the spike of fear it brought with it, was what got her moving, forcing aching limbs into motion on pure adrenaline. Running towards the sound of the cry she’d just heard, away from the sirens and the voices of the men behind her, the ones she’d only just got away from before.  
  
She made her way at a clumsy, aching jog through the wreckage, dreading stumbling to the ground amidst burning rubble. She was already in enough trouble without more injuries, aches and pains to slow her down. So she picked a slow way through the debris for a while, reluctantly choosing stealth over speed, ducking for cover beneath large chunks of concrete now and then. Hopefully, anyone still chasing her would expect her to run straight for the cover of the far side of the Plass, with its little row of shops and cafes.  
  
It was just as she was thinking this, that she saw something moving in the rubble. Her eyes widened as she saw a very familiar hand, hearing a groan of pain as a figure sat up ahead, dragging themself upright with obvious, painful effort.  
  
Gwen's eyes widened. No, it couldn't be... even as she told herself she shouldn't get her hopes up, she had already began to run.  
  
And then she was beside him, scrambling over the last chunks of concrete and warped and twisted steel.  
  
“ _Ianto!_ ” gasped Gwen, dropping to her knees in the rubble beside him. “Oh my God, Ianto, _Ianto_...” he clutched at her arm, gasping, as she helped him up, shuffling through the dust and broken concrete and mangled lengths of rebar. His eyes were wide and terrified, a fresh cut on his cheek as he gulped in huge breaths, almost choking on it; he looked like he might be going into shock, Gwen realised. She wasn’t sure she wasn’t herself, either.  
  
She pulled him against her chest in a crushing hug, hands bunched and twisting in the back of his dusty suit jacket. “ _Christ_ , Ianto, I thought you were dead!” she gabbled. "I dunno exactly what happened, but Thames House was locked down, and, and... you and Jack..." she pulled back, searching his face; he was still staring her, eyes unfocused, hyperventilating a little. She raised her hand and cupped his cheek, pulling him towards her again and pressing a rain of kisses to his forehead and his cheeks. She felt him wince as she caught his grazes. “Aw, fuck, sorry!” she said, jerking backwards as he hissed with pain. “Ianto, oh God, I’m so glad you’re–”  
  
“Thames House,” interrupted Ianto, voice hitching as though he was fighting through tears. He grasped her hands, staring at her intently. “D-did you say Thames House?”  
  
She stared. “Y-yeah... but it wasn't real, I mean we’re here now aren’t we? It couldn't have been...”  
  
“It _was_ , though,” breathed Ianto, glassy-eyed. “I... oh, oh _God_ , Gwen, I think I _died_... Jack was holding me, and, and I died in his arms, and...” he looked horrified. “I _remember_ it, Gwen. Like it just happened. It _did_ just happen… didn’t it? You remember it too?”  
  
She nodded slowly, trying to think, but only managed to let out a little whimper of pain. She pulled him to her reflexively again. This time he squeezed her back, tightly, the two of them embracing in the rubble. “I'm so _sorry_ ,” she sobbed into his dusty hair. “Sorry I wasn't there, sorry I let you two go in there...”  
  
“Ssh, Gwen. It’s okay,” he choked out, even though they both knew it wasn't. When he drew back his eyes were still wide, but a little clearer. “It doesn't matter,” he said, even though it did. He visibly swallowed back tears. “We need to find Jack.”  
  
She nodded. Then she winced as she heard gunfire, saw something glance off a piece of concrete nearby in a little cloud of dust and sparks _._

“ _Shit_. Forgot about the snipers,” said Ianto, with a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Well, how about we run?” said Gwen, chuckling too; despite the fact that they were actively being shot at, somehow the fact that Ianto was back in her arms, as though these last few days had never happened, was making a huge grin spread across her bruised, tear-stained face against all odds.  
  
“Sounds good to me!” said Ianto, as they both helped each other up, turned tail, and began to run.  
  
They were running hand in hand, jumping over rubble and dragging each other along to avoid stumbling, when it happened.

The first thing Gwen was aware of – even before the sharp report of gunfire from the rooftop to their left – was Ianto crying out in alarm, yanking on her hand. It made her lose her balance, falling over broken concrete. But even as she fell, she felt the impact in her back, like she was being pushed by some great force; it didn't even feel like pain, not yet anyway. It was too quick, and a moment later, there was a brilliant flare of it at the back of her neck, her skull cracking as the bullets connected. She was aware long enough to hear Ianto scream, before–  
  
She woke up, gasping in pain as she was thrown against on the hard ground.  
  
This time, Gwen had barely picked herself up off the ground, before Ianto was running over and flinging himself down to his knees beside her, pulling her head and shoulders into his lap. “ _Gwen!_ ” he gasped. “You...”  
  
“... _Died_ ...” she finished, raising a hand gingerly to the back of her head and neck; her whole body hurt from being thrown against the hard paving, but her skull was not cracked, brain not splattered against the ground. Still, she felt stunned from the leftover sensation, the memory of it lingering as she blinked stupidly up at Ianto's apprehensive face. Abruptly, she found her eyes filling with tears. “They _shot_ me, Ianto!”  
  
“I know, Gwen. I know.” She felt him hastily stroke her hair. She’d seen Ianto do that for Jack plenty of times. Gwen wondered if this was what Jack felt like every time he died.  
  
The thought was not a particularly comforting one, and she tried not to shudder as she sat up. “What happened?” she said. “Ianto, why am I alive? ...Why are _you_ alive, for that matter?”  
  
His face was grim. “I've got a theory,” he said. “You won't like it, I’m afraid.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
But he just shook his head. “Not here,” he said, looking up at the sky warily. “Unless we want to get shot again.”  
  
She grimaced, touching the back of her hair and letting him help her unsteadily to her feet; it felt good to have someone to lean on. “Yep, I vote let's avoid that, if possible. Oh God, they shot me in the _head_...”  
  
“We should have a few more minutes before they start shooting again,” Ianto was saying, peering at the cracked face of his watch and glancing nervously around even as he held her up with his other arm. “We need to make use of it this time, find somewhere to hide. Temporarily at least. Somewhere close by, so we can plan.”  
  
“What about... that cafe you like, uh... the one on the corner,” said Gwen. “Baps! They're usually open late, or at least I bet they would for you...”  
  
But Ianto was already shaking his head. “I can't bring this on David and Kathy. They’ve put up with enough from me .”  
  
“Fine, yeah. Well, then we can go find Rhys...” she was mindful of the first time she'd done this, how she’d led their pursuers right to Rhys.  
  
“I think that's a good idea" said Ianto as they jogged, only betraying what he'd rather be doing with a very brief look back over his shoulder at the bomb site. “But we can't just go directly back to yours. Your flat's being watched, remember? So’s mine, I bet.”  
  
“Okay,” said Gwen, frowning as she thought back a few days, running back to Rhys and hustling him out of the house just in time. “Um....”  
  
“Sewers, maybe?” said Ianto thoughtfully. “They link up to those tunnels that lead under the castle. It’s all connected, and I bet I know the layout better than Johnson and her lot.”  
  
Gwen groaned. “The last bloody thing we need is to bump into a weevil right now... _ah!_ ”  
  
Ianto grimaced, as shots began to ring out from above. “Sewers!” he exclaimed.  
  
“Sewers it is!” agreed Gwen, running after him, wincing as bullets struck sparks where they ricocheted off a lamppost standing half-toppled by the force of the explosion.

When they got to cover, they’d figure this out. Until then, she squeezed Ianto’s hand hard as they ran.

She didn’t know what was happening or why. But for the moment it didn’t matter. For now, the important thing was that she’d been given another chance. Another chance to save Ianto, to save Rhys and Jack and the world and all its children, and herself.

And this time, she wasn’t letting it go that easily.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for suicide and general violence in this chapter specifically.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” said Ianto, holding up a finger. They are sitting in a junction in the tunnels a little way from the Castle; Gwen didn't enjoy the reminder of the last time they’d been down this way, when Good Thinking had ravaged the city, but she supposed it was safer than anywhere else. He raised his eyebrows, holding her gaze, and spun his finger in a little circle. “Time loop.”  
  
“Okay, getting that much, yeah,” said Gwen, wincing at the sound of cars passing overhead, rattling over the grating to the street. The last few days had made her far too jumpy. Except now it hadn’t even happened yet. Weird. “But why? How? What’s causing it?”  
  
“Haven’t got that far,” said Ianto. “Any ideas?”

Gwen shook her head.

“We’ll work on that part,” he said. “But in the mean time, there’s a Torchwood protocol for time loops, and telling people you're in one.”

“Is there?”

“’Course there is,” said Ianto, frowning. “Part of the mandatory training at Torchwood One, there were all sorts. Time loops, time slips, general safety protocols for interacting with spatio-temporal anomalies, baseline psychic defense, xenobiology and biohazard primer, all that stuff. ...Did Jack not give you that when you joined Torchwood?”

“Not as such. He did give me a very hands-on firearms lesson,” offered Gwen, squinting as she tried to remember the whirlwind run-down of the various protocols Jack had told her about all that time ago, the stack of background literature and documentation he’d given her to read, most of which she’d just shoved in her desk drawers and then never got around to. Some things she’d learned very quickly on the job – she’d always been best at that – but the parts she'd never had occasion to use had started to fade a little, and this was one of them.

Ianto rolled his eyes, with a grudging laugh. “Of course he did.”

But then a more important thought struck her. “Wait, but how can it be a time loop? We both remember the same stuff, from...” she tailed off.  
  
Ianto grimaced, clearly thinking the same as she was. Him, dying in Jack's arms from an alien virus. Her, dying after being shot in the head by a sniper. “First step for dealing with this kind of anomaly… identify the conditions that cause the loop to reset. Which, so far, seems to be one or other of us dying,” he said. “Combined with our shared memories, that points to both of us being looped together.”  
  
Gwen frowned. “When you, um, died, in Thames House, I felt like the world was sort of... collapsing,” she said. “And no, that's not a metaphor, though, ah...” she squeezed his hand nervously, hoping he understood what she meant.  
  
Sure enough, Ianto was nodding. “Like time and space was sort of...” he made a gesture, like crumpling a piece of paper, “squashing in on itself.” He looked pained, squeezing her hand back. “That’s what it felt like when they shot you.”  
  
“...Oh. Sorry.”  
  
“...It’s fine,” said Ianto, sounding anything but. Yet he took a breath, clearly trying to rein in his emotions and think. “...Okay. Okay, so, working theory: one or both of our deaths are causing the loop to reset...”  
  
She nodded. “Either one of us seems to work. ...Do you think it’s just us? Or other people, too? ...Jack?” she frowned. “Wait, no, it can’t be Jack too. He must’ve died plenty of times while they had him in that cell, and there was the time Clem shot him...” she winced, seeing Ianto's face twist with pain in the dim light. “...Sorry.”  
  
“’S’okay,” he said, looking upset again. “You’re right, though. Whatever this is, it’s something to do with the two of us. I just don’t know what yet.”  
  
She patted his arm. “That’s okay, Ianto.”  
  
“...Jack would probably know,” Ianto said, voice breaking slightly. He was staring glumly down at his dusty hands, folded in his lap.  
  
“Probably.” Gwen kept her tone firm but carefully neutral, much as she wanted to start crying herself. “When we find him, we can ask him.”  
  
“On that point,” said Ianto, perking up a little. “We need to make a plan to get to Jack, before Johnson does.”  
  
“Okay,” said Gwen. “Well, after we’ve got Rhys–”  
  
But Ianto was shaking his head. “Jack first,” he said. “He’s closer, just around the Bay and we can use the tunnels, come out somewhere close to the Hub and pick through the ruins, until we find...” he swallowed, not needing to finish the sentence; Gwen knew they were picturing much the same sort of horrors. “We can save him from what happened that first time, is my point.”  
  
Gwen winced, laying a hand on Ianto’s arm at the way his face twisted at the prospect of picking through the rubble, looking for the mangled body parts of the man he loved. He looked like he was trying his very best to remain stoic at the prospect, but failing badly. She knew exactly how he felt.  
  
But still, she was insistent. “I’m sorry, Ianto. But Jack can't die,” she said softly. “What if they kill Rhys, hmm?” She frowned. By her – admittedly rather hastily estimated – calculation, she was sure she’d got to Rhys quicker the first time; it might already be too late. But it might not, and Gwen was clinging on to that possibility.  
  
Ianto turned his head and looked at her. She could see the conflict in his eyes, the internal debate he was having. If she was honest, she found herself having the same conversation with herself.

“ _Please_ , Ianto,” she implored him. “Don't make me argue with you over Jack suffering versus Rhys dying. There’s no good solution, but fighting about it is just going to hurt both of us.” She squeezed his hand. “I _need_ you on my side… God knows no one else is right now.”

“I am on your side, Gwen. _Always_. But...” His face twisted through a variety of expressions. He nodded slowly, sadly, and frowned. “I suppose, if my theory’s right we can always just... you know. Shoot ourselves in the head and give it another go.”  
  
“Ah-ah. No, don't you dare, Ianto Jones. Don’t even go there.”  
  
“If it works the way we think, then in theory, only one of us… only _I_ would have to–”  
  
“Ianto! No! For one thing, we don't know for sure how this works!” She bit her lip. “Until we know more, we go about this like a normal mission. That means, treat ourselves as mortal, and try and save Rhys first. Apart from being my bloody husband, he’s a civilian, and he’s being targeted because of us.”  
  
He sighed. “Jack's _right there_ , though.” But she could tell he was wavering. Not that she took much joy in knowing she’d won. “...Parts of him, anyway.”  
  
“We could split up–”  
  
“No!” he said, too abruptly. “Remember how it was the first time. I... I think we should stay together.”  
  
She sighed, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. “Yeah,” she said. She had to admit that the first time had been terrible, and she didn’t want to leave Ianto again now she had him back.

He stood up, pulling her along by the hand. “Come on then. Let’s get this done.”

* * *

Gwen peered around the corner of the hedge at the end of her road, hand on her gun. Above her, she felt Ianto lean over to look too.

“Coast’s clear, I think,” he said. “I’ll guard the outside of the house, you go in and grab Rhys, we get out as quick as possible.”

Gwen nodded. “What’ll you do if something happens?” They’d got rid of their phones and earpieces much sooner this time, learning from before. “What’s our signal?”

“Um... yell really loudly from the alleyway?”

She chuckled. “Guess we’re not going to do much better than that,” she said, as she started down the street, gun drawn and hidden in her jacket, Ianto following and watching their backs behind her.

She left him in the street outside the house, pressed back into the shadows of her neighbour’s hedge out of the light of the streetlamp, and slipped into the house as quickly as she could.

In their bedroom, Rhys was sleeping; Gwen wrenched the duvet off him, feeling terrible for doing this to him – again – but at the same time, terrified of what lay ahead. “Rhys!” she hissed. “We have to leave. Right now.”

“Bloody hell, Gwen!” said Rhys, clearly startled; she felt a stab of guilt, wishing she didn’t have to put him through this again. Though for him, it was the first time.

“Come on,” she said. She’d wasted too much time the first time, she knew. This time she could do better. “Get dressed, don’t bring anything. Leave your phone, they’ll only be able to–”

She broke off and froze, as she heard the sound of a hastily-stifled yell outside the window, from down in the street; her heart went to her throat as she remembered what she’d said to Ianto.

“ _Rhys!_ ” she shouted again, making him freeze in the middle of pulling his shirt over his head. “We need to–”

But she didn’t get any further, as she heard a crash from the front of the flat; a moment later, the door of the bedroom burst off its hinges, soldiers rushing into the room.

Agent Johnson barged into the room, two huge and burly men beside her holding a fiercely struggling Ianto between them, one pulling him into an arm-lock that made him hiss with obvious pain.

“Gwen!” he gasped. “I’m sorry, I tried to – _mmph_.” His words were cut off as one of the men stuffed his hand over Ianto’s mouth. Ianto tried to bite him, but the other one casually punched him in the stomach, making him curl in on himself as much as he could, held fast between them.

Gwen snarled with fury, drawing her gun and lunging forward, aiming at Johnson.

But then several things happened, all at once. Gwen was still staring at Ianto, and saw his eyes widen. She had enough time to follow his gaze and see Johnson raised her gun, pointing it directly at Gwen. She didn’t have enough time to do anything else, before the crack of gunfire, too loud in the small room. Gwen’s eyes widened; this was point-blank range, she didn’t have enough time to draw her gun, she was going to be shot. She started to close her eyes, bracing for the bullet.

But then something was bareling into her from one side, something heavy. Rhys, she realised, knocking her hard into the wall as he shoved her out of the way. “Don’t you bloody touch my wife!” he was screaming, but the end of the sentence tore into a scream as blood exploded from his throat, the bullet striking him that should have hit Gwen. And she was screaming too, drawing her gun and firing at Johnson, firing wildly as Ianto struggled against the guards holding him.

“ _Rhys!_ ” she screamed, darting over to him – ignoring the gun Johnson was pointing at her, rolling his body over. As soon as she turned him over she drew in a fast breath; it was immediately clear he was dead, the bullet had hit him in the throat, and he was drenched with blood, soaking into the carpet and splattered across the wall. Just like before, like when Bilis had stabbed him.

An idea struck her all at once, thinking back to this, back to her conversation with Ianto in the sewer; she stared around the room for half an instant with wild desperation, taking in Ianto staring at her and Rhys in wide-eyed terror, still struggling against the men holding him. Johnson, standing over her with a curl to her lip, her gun still pointed at Gwen.

She’d kill her, Gwen knew. And Ianto, just like they’d already killed Rhys. Her gun was at her side, and time seemed to slow as her hand went to it, desperate for the courage to do what she had to.

Ianto realised what she was thinking a moment before she did it, struggling loose from the man gagging him with a final burst of strength. “Gwen!” he screamed. “No, don’t!”

But it was too late. Gwen pulled out her gun, tears streaming from her eyes as she pointed it at her own temple. Squeezing her eyes closed – as much so she didn’t have to see Ianto’s face as anything, his eyes wide and panicked, mouth open to shout something, and maybe it was her name – she pulled the trigger, and there was pain for a split second, blinding, splitting her awareness apart, before all went dark.

And then there was light and noise again, as a mere fraction of a moment later Gwen was thrown against the ground by the force of the blast.

* * *

She felt herself sob and cry out, face pressed against the rubble and her heart pounding, as she simply lay there, heart rate slowing to normal.

“Gwen! Oh my God, _Gwen_...”

She winced at the voice, loud and insisted; she was about to run for cover, to hide herself away, when she realised it was Ianto, already running over to her. He skidded to his knees beside her, arms going to embrace her.

She stared up at him. “Ianto...”

“You… you shot yourself! Why would you do that?” he demanded, face a twisted mask of pain.

“They killed Rhys!” she sobbed, tears coming all of a sudden. She sat up in his arms, gasping great lungfuls of air. “They killed him, Ianto! I couldn’t...”

She tailed off as he hugged her to his chest, and she hugged him back, sobbing into his shoulder. Her face was pressed against his cheek, damp with both their tears and the blood from his cut.

He drew back, sniffing and upset. “You said we weren’t going to do that!” he shouted at her. “ _You_ told _me_ not to!”

“I know. But Ianto, they _killed Rhys_. I couldn’t… couldn’t carry on without him!” She looked back into Ianto’s face and frowned. “Johnson would’ve killed us both anyway. I wasn’t giving her the bloody satisfaction.” As soon as she said it, she realised the truth of it; she’d just wanted a little control, in this whole bloody confusing mess.

But luckily, Ianto seemed to understand because just like that, the anger left him, his shoulders slumping as he held her; she got the feeling he understood exactly. “Come on,” he said. “We can’t stay here. We need to get moving, before...”

But at that moment, there was a clatter of gunfire, and they were both screaming, and…

Everything went dark.

And then, light and noise again.

Gwen gasped as she hit the ground, crying out in pain. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.

But as she looked up, there was Ianto again, running towards her. Before she could say anything he had grabbed her by the hand, was pulling her upwards. “Come on!” he said. “Run.”

Gwen, tears running down her face, was quick to comply.


	3. Chapter 3

This time, they knew better than to waste precious minutes. Nevertheless, as soon as they were in the tunnels they stopped for a minute or so to get their breath back, and as they did, Gwen impulsively pulled Ianto to her chest in a hug, wanting him close.

When she pulled back, his eyes were darting. “Come on,” he said, gently. “Let’s go get Rhys. …I think I have an idea for how to do better this time.”

“Oh?”

He tugged her hand. “Tell you on the way.”

She nodded, more grateful than she could say. She kept hold of his hand as they started off down the tunnels at a quick jog. After a while they slowed to a walk though; they still had quite a long way to go, and Gwen didn’t want to go into another potential fight breathless and exhausted from running all the way across town. A fast walk was a good compromise.

At first, they planned. Gwen listened, nodding as Ianto explained his idea.

It was something, at least. They’d agreed to try it.

And if it didn’t work, well… there was always next time.

It didn’t take them long to iron out the details; it wasn’t a very complicated plan, after all. Certainly not the whole journey through the tunnels. Afterwards the silence pressed in on them, unbroken except for the distant rattle of the occasional car passing overhead, here and there the distant wails of sirens, distorted by the way they filtered down into the tunnels and echoed against the damp brickwork.

“I just realised,” said Gwen to fill the silence, because she doubted Ianto was going to, “I’m going to have to tell Rhys I’m pregnant all over again.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?”

“I’m worried about everything,” sighed Gwen. “But… ugh, it was bad enough dropping that on him at the same time this was all happening the first time, let alone over and over again.”

“He won’t remember it,” said Ianto. When she darted a glance as his face, she saw he was frowning, as though trying to work something out. “If I’m right, and it’s just the two of us… well, it’s a clean slate, isn’t it? You can tell him again, however you want.”

“I know. But _I_ remember,” she said. “I feel bad, you know? I should be better for him. I hated telling him like that. I hate all of this.”

“...But he took it okay, didn’t he?” said Ianto. “The first time, I mean. When we saw him, he seemed to have taken the prospect of being a dad in his stride.”

“Oh, Rhys definitely did,” said Gwen. “I was talking more about me. I mean, me? A mum? ... _Christ_ , I’m going to be a _mum_...”

Ianto patted her arm, a little awkwardly. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll be okay at it,” he said, “after all this is over, at least… and even if you’re not, you’ll have Rhys, and me and Jack to help.” His eyes went distant for a moment. “Oh, God that reminds me. Jack’s got a daughter and a grandson… almost forgot about that. ...Not relevant, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Gwen with a frown, thinking back to when Ianto had told her that the first time, after Jack had walked out of the warehouse. She sighed. “I’m still nowhere near getting to grips with it all, and the fact that time seems to be all ballsed up and repeating itself isn’t helping.” She frowned. “It’s just all a little much.”

“Ah,” said Ianto. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” She patted his arm, then laughed a bit to herself, remembering. “D’you know how I told Rhys I was pregnant, the first time? Lying on potatoes.”

He blinked at her a few times. “...Potatoes?”

Suddenly it all seemed very funny. “Potatoes! We stowed away in a potato lorry to get to London.” She snorted, feeling tears come to her eyes unbidden. “Rhys suggested we call the the baby Edward if it was a boy.”

“After King Edward potatoes?”

“Yep!”

“...Potato baby,” said Ianto, narrowing his eyes.

Gwen laughed. “Potato baby Cooper-Williams!”

“And I suppose we’re going with Maris Piper for a girl?”

She giggled. “Obviously!”

He laughed too, then immediately pulled her into the shadows as they reached a ladder underneath an iron grating, slats of orange streetlight coming down from above. “I think we’re on the end of your road,” he said. “This is the closest grating.”

“How do you _know_ that?”

“I was paying attention while waiting in the street, uh, last time,” he said, eyes darting with obvious nervousness at the memory of how badly it had gone before. “Also, I know everything.” He nodded at the ladder. “After you?”

“Such a gentleman,” she said, patting his arm and putting her hands on the slightly damp cast iron rung, trying not to think about the things she might catch from it. They’d probably be dead and doing this all again in not too long anyway, going by a rapidly growing body of previous experience. She paused though, one foot on the rung. “Are you sure we’ve got time for this? What if they’re waiting for us there already?”

The answer to this, as they both knew, was that they’d just try again next time. But she didn’t relish the thought of being shot again, and clearly Ianto didn’t either, so neither brought that up; it was probably a given, from now on anyway.

Ianto squinted down at his watch in the dim light. “We got here about seven and a half minutes quicker than last time,” he said. “That’s enough for your side, isn’t it?”

“As long as Rhys gets a move on,” grumbled Gwen, starting to climb. “Is it enough for your side?”

“Oh, definitely,” said Ianto, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. “I actually have some practice at this sort of thing, from when Jack and I did the Serenity Plaza job.”

“Do I want to know?”

“It _would_ spoil the surprise,” he allowed.

She winced. “Just… try not to get any of my neighbours killed, okay?”

“Yes, Ma’am, understood. Property damage only.” He gave her a mock salute and a slightly maniacal grin.

“Yep, okay, you’ve _definitely_ been spending too much time around Jack,” she said, then immediately regretted her lack of tact, given the circumstances. Still, they were both forced to fall cautiously silent then, as they reached the top of the ladder. Gwen helped Ianto up through the hatch into the quiet street. Just as it had been before, it was oddly, jarringly peaceful; a normal night in Gwen’s familiar street that she’d walked down so many times on days just like this one. She often came home late and exhausted and bruised from Torchwood missions, and sometimes Ianto was even with her too, invited over for wine and talk and takeaway when Rhys was away on an overnight delivery, on one of their rare nights off.

She was already regretting the necessity of bringing Rhys into this. Indeed, she had been the first time too; she’d signed on to work for Torchwood, but he never had. So far, today was just a normal day for him. But not for long, and she couldn’t leave him, she knew.

She sighed, giving Ianto’s hand a squeeze, then meeting his eye. He nodded at her, and they parted ways, Ianto checking his watch again as he made a beeline for the line of parked cars beside the pavement. She winced at the smash of glass and the immediate blaring of an alarm; rationally, Gwen knew that their pursuers already knew where they were anyway, and indeed, if one of the neighbours called the police then a couple of squad cars blocking the road might actually help them slip away unnoticed. But still, the last week – should she count the repeated parts? She didn’t know – had made her twitchy, constantly on edge.

Still, she kept running as she heard the roar of an engine behind her, focusing on her part of the plan. Rhys was her priority right now.

Inside the house she found him asleep, just like before. Even the sound of his exclamation – _“Bloody hell, Gwen!”_ – when she ripped the duvet off him was growing familiar. But this time she was focused. She knew exactly how much time she had, and she didn’t have the spare minutes to delay.

Still, she couldn’t resist pulling Rhys into her arms, pressing a hard kiss to his lips to banish the memory of him bleeding on the floor beside the bed. “Shush, Rhys,” she said when he pulled back, blinking at her in the bleary-eyed confusion of the just-woken-up. “No time to explain. Get dressed, grab some things if you have to, but we’ve got to go.”

“But–”

“Just do it! ... _Please_ , Rhys, I swear to God I’ll explain on the way, but...” she peered out of the window as she heard another car alarm go, saw a car moving in the street; there were now several of them in the middle of the road, blockading the area of their house. A moment later she saw the figure of Ianto run out again to break into another car and drive it into place. “We don’t have much time.”

Rhys was wide-eyed as he grabbed at a shirt and jeans. “What should I bring?”

“Cash… no bank cards, they won’t be any use once they block our accounts…”

“Wait, why–”

“No phones either, they can track those. Warm coat, spare clothes but not too many, um...” she scanned the room, grabbing the contact lenses from the dresser absently and sticking them in her pocket as she tried to think what she’d wished she’d thought to bring the first time. She was already starting to fill a rucksack; in went her laptop, charger and a large external hard drive, a few spare clothes, a large, light polyester holdall she folded up into the front pocket, a kitchen knife for when they ran out of ammunition, and all the loose change and bank notes she could find. From the kitchen, an opened pack of chocolate Hobnobs and a bag of raisins from the cupboard for the quick energy she knew they’d need, along with a thermos bottle she filled with water. She found herself wishing, not for the first time since all this had begun, that she’d brought more Torchwood artifacts home, rules or no; it wasn’t like Jack and Ianto set much store by them either, anyway.

Still, she had to work with what she had. She was just in the bathroom grabbing gauze, disinfectant wipes, plasters, and her and Rhys’s toothbrushes when he came to the door, pulling on his coat. “Gwen… don’t want to alarm you, but there’s something going on in the street outside...”

She nodded. “That’s Ianto. He’s stealing cars to make a blockade. Should slow them down a bit.”

“Slow them… wait, who?”

“Government agents, trying to pick us off.”

“Christ,” said Rhys, looking upset. “And you’re sure they’re coming here?”

“Yep. Very sure,” Gwen swung the bag onto her back, pressing another kiss to Rhys’s cheek and taking his hand. “Come on, love.”

They ran down into the street to find Ianto jogging over to meet them. “Six cars and a motorbike between us and the direction she drives in from, and oh, guess what? I found some bits of plastic piping in a skip in one of the gardens. Actually, I noticed it last time, which is what made me think about this in the first place. Hullo, Rhys.” He beamed. “Good to see you.”

“Same to you, Ianto mate,” said Rhys, looking nonplussed as the three of them walked off speedily along the road, stopping on the corner. “What d’you need the piping for?”

“Oh, to connect up the fuel inlets on all those vehicles in the middle of the road.”

“What’re you going to do...?”

Ianto smiled, as they reached the corner and ducked around the hedge on the other side. “This.”

And he turned back around the corner and fired his gun at the closest car in the blockade, hitting it in the side of its chassis.

The explosion was immediate, an ascending fireball in the middle of the road and a rolling wave of heat and sound a moment later as the car’s fuel tank ignited. Every alarm in the street was blaring now in a discordant cacophony, but it was drowned out by another explosion as the next car in the blockade exploded, burning fuel entering its tank from the first. Then another, and another, until they were all alight, a massive cloud of oily smoke blanketing the whole residential neighbourhood.

It also made quite a nice cover, thought Gwen as the three of them peered out around the alley wall, at the distant glow of flames from the fire in the middle of the road; in the distance, Gwen could hear sirens much closer now, surely fire engines and police approaching.

“That should keep everyone busy for a bit,” said Ianto, looking rather pleased with himself as they started off away from the blast, turning into a narrow alleyway between gardens, too small to drive down.

She patted him on the arm. “Yeah, definitely. Good job, Ianto.”

“Inspired by you, Gwen. You know, before.”

She nodded, remembering the fuel lorry she’d blown up as they escaped by forklift, that first time.

“Um, what?” said Rhys, looking between them in utter confusion.

“Yes, sorry,” said Ianto. “Uh, lots to explain. Still, we’ve got bigger problems right now, I’m afraid.”

Rhys regarded him blankly, looking between him and Gwen in astonishment. “Oh, God, what is it this time? Who’s after you, and why? ...Is this something to do with that thing with the kids, today?”

Gwen sighed, taking Rhys’s hand and linking their fingers together. “Come on,” she said. “We’ll tell you everything on the way.”

“Where are we going now?!?”

She met Ianto’s eyes and nodded. “To go get Jack.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick additional warning for gore/upsetting content in this character, relating to Jack getting blown to bits as per CoE canon.

“Right, so,” said Rhys, looking incredulously between Gwen and Ianto as they walked along a tunnel, “just to make sure I’ve got this right… you two are in some sort of time… loop… thing, and you know what happens in the next few days and you’re trying to make it happen differently. But it resets when you both die–”

“Technically only one of us needs to die,” said Ianto, hefting his rucksack. “So, when we get on a good loop, we need to keep one another safe.”

“Bloody right you do!” said Rhys, looking unnerved. “...You’d do that anyway though, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course we would, love,” said Gwen, squeezing his hand.

Ianto nodded. “Don’t worry, Rhys. It’s all going to be all right in the end.”

“Oh, that right is it?” said Rhys, looking skeptical. “How?”

Gwen exchanged a look with Ianto, who was grimacing slightly. “We’re working on that part,” she admitted, trying to sound diplomatic.

“We need to find Jack,” said Ianto. “He knows about this stuff, I’m sure he can tell us more.”

“Can he?”

“...Almost definitely.”

Gwen squeezed Rhys’s hand, stilling his counterargument. “Rhys, Jack needs our help. We need to save him, otherwise, um, we’re worried they’re going to do something terrible to him.”

“Really? But I thought he couldn’t die?” said Rhys. “Surely you should be saving yourselves first?”

“He can’t die _permanently_ ,” corrected Ianto, grimly. “And he can feel pain as much as anyone.”

Rhys looked like he was about to ask more, but then closed his mouth as he saw their tense expressions. “Okay,” he said. “Well, where is he? Can we just, I dunno, phone him, tell him to meet us somewhere?” He looked between them, seeing their hastily exchanged glance, their winces. “What?”

Gwen laid a hand on his arm. “Sorry, love. I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit more complicated than that.”

* * *

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” said Rhys.

“Me and Ianto,” said Gwen firmly. “Not you. You’re staying put, right here, and waiting for us to come find you.”

He opened his mouth as though to start arguing again, but she gave him a look and he nodded, with no little relief Gwen thought. Which was absolutely fair; Gwen would rather be doing just about anything but this herself. Except let Ianto do this alone, of course.

Still, Rhys looked a bit pale as they peered out of the shadows of the awning of a closed newsagent. “Are you sure there’s… no other way, though? I mean, yeah, you’ve got to get Jack back, that’s fair. But hunting through the wreckage of the Hub, for...” he tailed off, looking slightly sick.

“For whatever we can find,” said Ianto, the empty holdall they’d brought bunched up in his hand. Gwen could only see half his face in the orange light of the streetlamp, but she could see his teeth were gritted, his breathing fast as though he were working himself up to do whatever he had to.

“But you could just wait,” said Rhys. “Wait until he’s… y’know. A bit more...” he looked doubtful, “...together. If that’s how it works.”

“That is how it works, but that’s what we did the first time,” explained Ianto, voice utterly flat. “They got to him first. Do you know what they did?”

“Ianto–” said Gwen, but he ignored her.

“They picked up his remains, put him in a cell, and filled the cell with concrete. He must have been in there for hours, dying over and over and being suffocated by it before I got him out. I’m not waiting that long again.”

“...Oh,” said Rhys, in a very small voice. “...Christ. Sorry, Ianto. You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“But I did, and I will again.”

“Of course, yeah!” said Rhys awkwardly. He seemed like he had no idea what to say, and honestly Gwen could hardly blame him. “No, I mean… look, just, they shouldn’t have done that to him. The whole thing’s just bloody awful.”

Ianto laughed, sad and bitter. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Gwen nudged him with her shoulder and squeezed Rhys’s hand at the same time, trying to get them both back on track. “Well. We can all discuss it later when we’ve got Jack back.”

“Right, right, yes.”

Ianto seemed to rally too, straightening his back and checking his watch as he visibly collected himself. “Right, last time when I saw Johnson and her lot pick through the wreckage, it was the morning, just before ten. Now it’s four thirty AM. We’ve got time, barring other divergences from the first set of events due to our different actions. Gwen?”

She nodded, stepping up beside him before turning back to Rhys. “Stay here,” she said firmly. “Keep a look out for anything suspicious, anything at all. Especially people in vans watching us, moving slowly, but they might be in disguise, too. Don’t talk to them. If you see anything–”

“Then I’ll signal the two of you, yes, I know,” said Rhys. “Stop worrying, love.”

She leaned forward and kissed him swiftly. “Love you. We won’t be long.”

* * *

Planning this was one thing, Gwen thought grimly, as she watched Ianto put his shoulder against a lump of concrete with a stony expression on his face. Putting it into practice was quite another. She came up beside him, laying her hand on his arm and her shoulder against the concrete he was trying to shift, hoping the touch and the help said the words she couldn’t.

Because what could you say? Here they were, looking for whatever body parts they could find of the man that Ianto loved, Gwen’s best friend, while constantly fearing the fire of snipers, the sound of sirens. Wincing at shadows. The fact that Johnson and her operatives were still elsewhere – presumably because they hadn’t made it back yet, or because they didn’t think Gwen and Ianto would be stupid enough to return here – was somehow nowhere near as reassuring as it should have been.

Ianto turned to meet her eyes, smiling very slightly, acknowledging, as the force of both of them pushing the piece of concrete coordinated, rolling it aside a fraction. Gwen squinted at the hollow they’d just unearthed.

“Right,” said Ianto, almost briskly; if she hadn’t known him quite so well, she might have thought him oddly unbothered by all this. “The first time, Jack told me the bomb blew him apart. So I think…” he swallowed nervously, “I think we’re looking for smaller pieces, rather than a full body.”

“Oh, Christ,” said Gwen. “Ianto...”

Ianto sighed, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment, his only acknowledgement of the horror of it all. “The sooner we start, the sooner it’ll be over with.” He dropped to his knees, making to scramble down into the wreckage.

“I don’t know if that’s safe,” she said, grabbing the tail of Ianto’s dusty jacket as he went to crawl into the space. “What if it all collapses in?”

Ianto turned back and raised his eyebrow at her, and she could see the tension thrumming through every muscle in his body, could see how much he hated every moment of this. “Then we start again at the beginning of the loop,” he said. “Obviously.”

Gwen groaned. “God I hate this.”

“Me too,” sighed Ianto, tugging out of her grip and crawling into the gap.

To Gwen’s great relief, neither of them got crushed by concrete. Indeed, it almost felt safer here with a little cover, despite everything. Despite the fact that they were picking through the ruins of a place that had been like a home for both of them, despite the broken pieces of things they kept finding; Gwen picked up a crumpled, charred piece of one of Ianto’s Post-it reminders and stopped it fluttering away in the breeze; she put it in her pocket, despite knowing that it wouldn’t be there anymore next time around. Meanwhile, Ianto unearthed the tin bucket he usually used to carry food to the weevils; Gwen didn’t even want to think about what had happened to them, having barely the space in her heart to process the horror of their own situation, and Jack’s. But she couldn’t help it, picturing them being crushed under the rubble, deep under the Hub, terrified and not knowing what was happening. Even with her newfound experience of dying, she could hardly imagine a worse fate.

“Gwen!” called Ianto after some time spent sifting, breaking her out of her grim imaginings. “Look!”

She turned, seeing him kneeling in the dust, hunched over something. She shuffled up behind him, peering over his shoulder. “What is it? What’ve you – _oh_. Oh, God. Is that…”

Ianto turned to meet her eyes, his face utterly frozen; he looked as though he was making a great effort to keep from screaming, or throwing up, as he tore his gaze from the bloody arm protruding from below the nearest chunk of concrete. “Yep.”

“Are you sure it’s _his_?” said Gwen; the limb was smeared with blood and dust, covered by the crushing weight of concrete from just below the elbow. They weren’t near the morgue, but one never knew, and Gwen wanted to be certain; the last thing she wanted was to have to do this all over again.

“Positive,” said Ianto. “That’s what’s left of his watch strap, look...” he pointed to the chunk of mangled leather and old clockwork that had been half crushed into the flesh.

“No wrist strap, though.”

“He wears it on the other arm. Anyway, look, he has that freckle just on the inside of his wrist. It’s definitely Jack.”

“Oh,” said Gwen, in a small voice. “I never noticed that.”

“I did,” said Ianto shortly. “Come on. Help me move that.” He nodded at the piece of concrete pinning the arm down. By the time they’d shifted it, Gwen was feeling nauseous, sweat breaking out over her face as a mangled shoulder came into view, darkened scraps of fabric – one of Jack’s blue shirts? It was too soaked with blood and caked in concrete dust to tell much of the colour – pale bone showing through singed and shrapnel-shredded flesh.

That was all, though; just the arm, half torn off and hanging by sinews from the remains of a shoulder.

Gwen swallowed, her mouth dry. She’d seen horrible things in her time, the most violent murders and the subsequent autopsies of the victims, had helped to clear up the bloodbath and the cruelly mutilated bodies after everything with Lisa. But somehow, this was worse. Someone was hunting them, had made Jack a weapon and torn him to pieces, and he’d feel every bit of it as he came back.

But however awful she felt, Gwen knew, for Ianto it had to be worse. Most people would be very unlucky to kneel amongst the mangled body parts of the person they loved only once in their life; Ianto had done it so many times now, and Gwen’s heart went out to him, remembering how she’d felt when Rhys had lain bleeding in her arms. For Ianto there had been Lisa, then Jack, over and over again with death upon gory death. Yet here Ianto still was, pushing through as though if he stopped for even a moment he’d break apart.

There was nothing she could do but be here for him, Gwen decided. Every step of the way. Admittedly, it wasn’t like they seemed to have much choice in the matter, but even so.

“Right,” said Ianto grimly, unfolding and unzipping the sturdy black holdall Gwen had packed for exactly this purpose. “Time we got to work.”

* * *

By the time they were done, Gwen had decided she never, ever wanted to repeat the experience they’d just had. She thought the half caved-in skull was the worst part, which they’d found a little way further into the ruins. At least it had been too damaged to see Jack’s familiar face. That might have been the thing that was too much for her, she knew, not to mention Ianto.

“Do you think that’s... enough?” said Gwen nervously, as Ianto zipped the bag closed with care, as though tucking in a blanket. “For him to… come back from.”

“I don’t know, Gwen. I really, _really_ hope so.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Okay. I trust your judgement, Ianto.”

It was almost a relief to scramble cautiously from the rubble once more, the open space feeling dangerous but at least a good deal better than the horror they’d just been through.

They were silent as they walked over to the corner where Rhys lingered in the shadows, the car they’d broken into earlier parked by the pavement, ready. Rhys stepped forward into the light as they approached, his face a mixture of relief and trepidation.

“Gwen! Ianto! ...Is it… done?”

Gwen didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on the holdall Ianto had slung over his shoulder. Gwen took his hand, placing her other hand on the small of his back and steering him around, back towards the car. “Yes, love. We got what we came for,” she said firmly. “Now, let’s get away from here.”

Fifteen minutes later found them well on their way. Gwen was sitting in the passenger seat as Rhys drove them out of Cardiff, with Ianto in the back seat guarding the bag. It was getting light, the street lamps orange against the pallid early morning blue of the cloudy sky, and Gwen was feeling nervous as she watched the lights pass by on either side of the motorway.

They were just approaching the Severn Bridge – with Gwen hoping to God they wouldn’t be stopped at the barriers – when she heard Ianto’s voice call out from the back seat.

“Uh, Gwen? Rhys? I don’t want to alarm you, but I think there’s someone following us. Black van, a few cars behind us in the right lane.”

Gwen’s back went rigid in the seat and immediately she peered into the wing mirror; sure enough, she could make out a black van with tinted windows a little way behind, keeping pace.

“Shit. How long’ve they been there?”

“Not sure,” said Ianto. “I only just spotted them… they must have been keeping a bit of traffic between them and us before, for cover.”

“But now they’re catching up,” said Gwen, her heartbeat accelerating as she wound down the window, peering out to judge the angle and distance, wondering how soon she’d be able to get a clear shot.

“What?” exclaimed Rhys, alarmed. “They’re in my blind spot, I can’t see them.”

“Nothing to worry about just yet,” said Gwen, leaning out a bit further to try to get a better view.

“Gwen, I’d stay inside the car for now,” said Ianto grimly. “If they think we’ve seen them, they might – _ah!_ ”

Gwen shouted out at the same moment as Ianto did, as the van in the adjacent lane put on a burst of speed, flanking them and hemming them in between it and the barrier. At the same moment there was a flash of gunfire from one of the windows across the now clear intervening space; Gwen reflexively ducked down in time, as the bullets blew the wing mirror beside her clean off.

“Bloody hell!” shouted Rhys. “They’re really still following us?!?”

“Oh, no I’m sure it’s all a terrible misunderstanding and they’re here for some other car chase!” said Gwen, turning in her seat, winding down the window and cocking her gun grimly, eyes on the van as it gained on them. Still, despite her nervous sarcasm, her heart ached once more; Rhys shouldn’t be involved with this. “Just, drive, Rhys. Keep going, don’t look back.”

“I can–”

“Just drive! Please!” she shouted, as Ianto passed her a spare clip from the rucksack, before cocking his own gun out the window. Her eyes widened, as the van changed lane so it was right behind them now, and gaining.

“Faster, Rhys!” she yelped.

“I’m already going seventy!”

“ _Seventy?!?_ Jack does a hundred and twenty on the magic roundabout!”

Rhys sounded affronted. “This is a national motorway, Gwen!”

“Ianto, next time one of us drives!” growled Gwen with frustration as she lost the angle, scrambling over the front seat into the back with Ianto.

“Wait, why?!?” Rhys said, indignant, though he did speed up a little, “because I’m too safe?!?”

“Because although I love you very much, we’re in a car chase and you’re going the bloody speed limit!” she yelled back, winding down the window and leaning out to fire off a few shots. She gasped out a string of curses as she heard Ianto yell a warning at her, ducking back inside the car and down below the seat just in time before the back window shattered in an explosion of glass, she and Ianto dragging each other down to the back seat, clinging to one another’s arms; somehow, the black bag ended up cradled between them protectively.

“Blimey, they’re shooting at us!” exclaimed Rhys.

“Yes thanks love, we noticed!” gasped Gwen, pausing to brush broken glass out of Ianto’s hair before letting him up again. “Just go faster, Rhys!”

“Right, right.” He turned back to the road, speeding up in earnest now. “Ianto, you’re sensible. Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid for me, will you?”

“What?” yelped Ianto, leaning back in from where he’d opened the car door and was leaning out precariously to return fire, nearly losing his grip as he reacted to Rhys saying his name.

Gwen just managed to catch his jacket, hauling him back in across the seat. She rolled her eyes fondly. “He said don’t let me do anything stupid.”

“Ah,” said Ianto, with a slight, grateful grin. “I’ll try and – _whoa!_ ”

He pulled her down just in time as a clatter gun fire blew the still-open car door off its hinges, spinning away into the road.

“Shit!” yelped Rhys. “Oh, fuck, Gwen love, are you–”

But he didn’t get any further.

Because at that moment, Gwen screamed as she saw a masked figure lean out of the side door of the car following them, leveling a grenade launcher. She was halfway to pulling Ianto down to the floor again, futile as it was, something whistled through the air, smashing through the back window, and then–

Then the world broke apart in a searing ball of flame.

* * *

Gwen gasped awake as she hit the pavement hard, the explosion shaking the ground beneath her. She gritted her teeth, almost crying with frustration, but she was prepared this time; she scrambled to her feet and began to run, in a direction that was growing familiar.

She reached Ianto in no time, finding him hunched over and slamming his fist into a nearby block of concrete.

“We were so _close_ that time!” he growled, when she tried to physically grasp his hand and pull him back.

“Ianto–”

“Now what do we have? Nothing! Fucking _nothing!_ ”

“ _Ianto!_ We don’t have time for this!”

The sharpness of her voice seemed to snap him out of it a little; at least enough that he let her take his hand, uncurl his fingers – and she made a mental note to clean the bloody mess he’d made of his knuckles if they survived this time, and if they didn’t, well, it wouldn’t matter for long anyway – and lead him away into a jog.

Once they were safe in the sewers, Ianto dropped to his knees. “We _had_ him,” he said, but his voice was more choked with tears now, compared with the blind fury of before. “We had Rhys, we had _Jack_...” he winced, as they both remembered the state Jack had been in, “and we were on our way to stop this. We were so _fucking_ close.”

“I know,” said Gwen, dropping down and hugging him swiftly. “I know.” She stroked her hand through Ianto’s hair, rubbing his back, feeling him shudder with suppressed sobs. She wished they had time for this right now. But reluctantly, she let him go. “Come on,” she said. “Time to try again… yeah? We can figure out what to do next when we have Rhys and Jack back again. Somewhere safe.”

“Yep. ...Yeah, you’re right, of course.” Ianto sighed, miserably wiping tears and blood off his face with his dusty sleeve. A small, tired smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “You might actually get the chance to tell Rhys you’re pregnant, this time.”

Gwen stared blankly for a second, realising with a shock that in all of this, she’d all but forgotten. “We’ll see,” she said, with a grudging chuckle. “How’re we doing for time?”

Somehow, Ianto had become their official timekeeper, by mutual unspoken agreement; Gwen supposed it made sense. He checked his watch.

“Six minutes ahead of last time. Hey, we’re getting faster at this!”

“Having to constantly run from snipers’ll do that to you, I guess.” She patted his arm consolingly, as much for her own sake as for Ianto’s. “At least it’ll give you even more time to make a big explosion.”

“Well, that’s something. I _really_ feel in the mood to blow something up now.”

“That's the spirit. Now come on. One more time, eh?”

“...One more time,” sighed Ianto, following her along the sewer tunnel.


	5. Chapter 5

In the event, it was not one more time.

Nor was it two, or three. By the sixth time they’d picked through the grim remains of the Hub for what they could find of Jack, only to be caught and killed trying to escape Cardiff, Gwen was nearly crying with frustration as she and Ianto fled into the sewers yet again, jogging along under the city to get Rhys. They’d pretty well perfected that early part by now: Gwen was getting more resourceful at packing, and Ianto was getting worryingly proficient at making vehicles explode. But it still didn’t help them once they got back and freed Jack from the Hub’s ruins; every time, every different car they’d stolen and every different escape route they’d attempted, they’d been caught. One particularly unpleasant time, they’d even tried to steal a boat and flee out into the Bay with the idea to loop back around to the coast. But it seemed even that way out of the city was being watched; the speedboat engine had been taken out in a ball of flame by snipers from the shore. Gwen didn’t think the sensation of burning while drowning would leave her anytime soon.

She shuddered, putting it from her mind and trying to concentrate on practicalities. “What are we doing wrong?” she wondered aloud, as they ran around a corner that was becoming a familiar landmark, skirting around a grille to the surface through which the streetlight filtered. _Just in case_. Gwen had had enough of being shot at for one lifetime, thank you very much. “There’s got to be a better way,” she said, not really expecting an answer, but wanting to talk it through. “That first time, we managed to get further than any of the later ones.”

“We didn’t have all the information then,” said Ianto grimly. “We were just blundering around doing anything we could.”

“True,” said Gwen, frowning, “but somehow it worked out the best yet. Even something as simple as getting out of Cardiff...”

“The difference is that I couldn’t get to Jack in time,” said Ianto, giving her a look that begged her not to argue with him on this. “What they did to him… that’s not something I’m willing to put him through again.”

Gwen nodded. “Of course, yes,” she said. “But there’s got to be _something_ that could help us...” her eyes widened, remembering a detail. “Oh! That first time, you said you went to your sister for help, yeah?”

Ianto’s face froze. “I don’t want to involve Rhiannon in this again. Not unless we’ve got no other option.”

“We’ve died so many times, Ianto. I dunno how many more options we’ve got.”

“True,” he said. “But Gwen, that first time, with Rhiannon… involving her was a mistake. I only did it because I was alone, and I didn’t know what else to do and I was _scared_ , Gwen. Now it’s the two of us though, and, well…” he shrugged. “I’ve got other choices, is what I’m saying. I’ve got you.”

She couldn’t help but smile, slipping her arm through his as they walked. “I love you too, Ianto. But your sister does, too. Nope, don’t try and argue with me...” she held up a hand to silence him. “Alright, how about this. We have to use every resource available to us, yeah?”

“Yeah,” sighed Ianto.

“And clearly our current approach to getting Jack somewhere safe where he can come back isn’t working.”

Ianto winced. “Yep.”

“So, all we need from Rhiannon is a safe place. Regroup, wait for Jack to come back, find our feet and plan.”

“We’d be putting her in danger.”

“She’s probably already in danger. But it worked the first time, didn’t it?”

His face twisted. “I wouldn’t exactly call that time the height of success.”

“Well it’s better than getting shot or blown up again!” She squeezed his arm. “Come on. We’ve got to at least try it. And if it goes wrong, if we die, then we can try something else. Yeah?”

“...Yeah. You’re right, as usual,” sighed Ianto, with a roll of his eyes. “Okay, how about this: we try getting out of Cardiff one last time. Then if it doesn’t work, we go see Rhiannon.”

“That sounds like a fair deal,” said Gwen, as they reached the ladder up to the manhole cover. “Let’s do that.”

* * *

“Drive, Rhys! Drive!” yelled Gwen, clutching Ianto in her arms in the backseat of the car as they headed for the Severn Bridge.

“Okay, love, okay,” he muttered, darting a fearful glance back at her before accelerating.

In her arms, Ianto moaned in pain; Gwen winced at the sight of all the blood on the front of him, trying to cover the wound as best she could; she had no idea what she was going to do, but they were so _close_ to getting out of Cardiff this time. If they could only make it somewhere safe, where she could treat Ianto’s wounds… she tried not to sob, blood welling out between her fingers as she pressed down on the wound, but it was no good, it was coming in spurts now.

They shouldn’t have stopped at that petrol station on the way, was the thing. But the car they’d stolen had happened to have a mostly-empty tank, and they’d thought they’d got away in good time.

But someone must have seen them, because just as Ianto was opening the car door to get back in they’d heard the clatter of gunfire.

He’d fallen against the half open door, blood already staining the centre of his chest, and Gwen had pulled him inside, horrified; she’d managed to lean out the window as Rhys drove them out of the forecourt onto the motorway, and her shots had hit the petrol tank at the station, sending the whole thing up in a monumental burst of flame.

But she had barely spared their pursuers a second thought after that. Now, she was sitting in the back of the car, clutching Ianto in her arms, stroking his hair as his hot blood soaked her jeans.

At the same moment, she heard sirens behind them, just as every time. She cursed angrily, sobbing and shouting at Rhys to go faster as Ianto whimpered with quiet pain in her arms, his eyes starting to glaze over. “Gw...en...” he gasped out, blood bubbling at his lips; the bullet must have punctured a lung, she thought. “Leave it… w-we can try again...”

“No!” she yelled, too loud in the small car. “ _Stay with me_ Ianto!” she patted his face, “come on, we’re so close this time, we can… come on sweetheart, please stay with me...”

But this only made him sob harder.

She knew when he was about to die beforehand, whatever strange temporal tie bound them tugging on her like the water of a river’s current, letting her know they’d soon be starting the loop again. It was a longer process this time, drawn out perhaps by the horrific slowness of this death, or perhaps because now the process of being wrenched out of the world as time collapsed in around her was horribly familiar. She was almost screaming in frustration – _how dare they shoot her Ianto, and they were so close, and the whole thing was so bloody unfair, and what had any of them done to deserve this?_ – as the loop reset itself by inches, the process drawing Gwen’s senses out of her body and imploding reality in on itself with agonising slowness as the life faded from Ianto’s eyes in the back of the car.

She came back falling to the concrete and sobbing. When she ran over to Ianto, the first thing she did was pull him into her arms again, pressing a hand over the place in the middle of his chest where the bullet wound had been. _Would be. Was not any more, not in this reality_. She breathed out a sigh, glad of the confirmation of what was real; much more of this and it would be too easy to forget, to get lost in the possibilities, she was becoming aware.

Ianto was breathing hard, tears in his eyes too. But he was determined, not letting her stay in one place, dragging her by the hand and not letting her stop until they were safe underground again, safe from the snipers.

When they were, he collapsed against the wall, breathing out. “Okay,” he said, raising his head. “You’re right. Trying to get out of Cardiff with Jack and Rhys isn’t going to work.”

She nodded. “What d’you say to going to see Rhiannon now?”

He took a deep breath, managing a small smile. “I suppose it’s worth a try,” he acknowledged.

She squeezed his hand. “Good. If we don’t see anyone following us when we have Rhys, and Jack...” she hesitated.

“Then we turn back and go to the estate,” he said. “It’ll be watched, but I don’t think they’ll have as much presence there if they’re expecting us to go to London.”

“Here’s hoping.”

* * *

Luckily, getting Rhys and Jack went quicker than ever. Perhaps it was their desperation and their new resolve, but they got in and out of Gwen’s street with minutes to spare, and back to Rhys with as much of Jack as they could carry in good time. Gwen hated the idea that she was getting used to what they had to do to get him back, but some survival-focused part of her was; if she was learning anything in all of this, it was that she was better than she had expected at compartmentalising, at pushing the inevitable breakdown into the future, when this was all done.

Still, they managed to get out quickly, and when they met back up with Rhys on the corner they didn’t try to steal a car and head for London, but rather turned the other way, pausing to pick up a few things as they went; it was just getting light, and it was easy enough to stop by a newsagent on their way to the estate to get what Ianto needed to put his plan from the first loop into practice again.

* * *

And that was how they ended up standing in front of Rhiannon Davies, in front of a park bench in the cold of very early morning. A few children and their parents were passing by to school, but other than that it seemed to be quiet. Not that Gwen would let down her guard.

In front of them, Rhiannon was holding up a greeting card to Ianto, an almost accusing look in her eyes. “Dad didn’t break your leg on purpose, you know.”

“Eh?” said Rhys, looking scandalised. “Your dad broke your leg?”

Ianto looked pained. “Rhiannon, can we skip this part this time?”

“What?” Rhiannon said.

“What?” said Gwen, looking between the two siblings; there was something between them, a desperation to Ianto that Rhiannon seemed to be picking up on, backing off a little as she looked between the three of them.

“I don’t want to get into it,” said Ianto flatly. “Look, Rhiannon, first of all… I am sorry about this. I never wanted to bring you into any of it.”

“It’s true, he didn’t,” said Gwen. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t very important.”

“...Okay,” said Rhiannon, looking even more troubled than before. “Um, who are you, exactly? Not to be rude or anything, but...”

“Oh!” said Gwen, with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m Gwen Cooper. I work with Ianto. This is my husband Rhys.”

“Hello.”

“Hello,” said Rhiannon, shaking each of their hands in slight bemusement as Ianto stood awkwardly to one side, clutching the holdall’s strap over his shoulder and looking impatient. But Rhiannon was busy looking them all up and down, her eyes taking in the blood and the dirt on them. “God, what happened to you all, though?”

“A lot,” said Gwen. “There’s no time to explain now, but that bomb on the news… it was targeting us.”

Rhiannon’s eyes widened. “My God. What sort of civil servants are you?”

“We’re not,” said Gwen shortly, before Ianto could answer. “But we _are_ trying to do our best to keep your children safe.”

Rhiannon stiffened. “My children?” she said, eyes darting, suddenly defensive. “What the hell have my kids got to do with this?”

“Nothing…” soothed Ianto, raising his hands placatingly and giving Gwen a pointed look. “Rhiannon… David and Mica should be safe, as long as–”

“ _Should_ be?” exclaimed Rhiannon, glaring at her brother and poking him in the chest. “You’ve got to give me better than that, Ianto Jones. Explain.”

“They’ll be fine, Mrs Davies,” broke in Rhys, taking them all by surprise. When they all turned to look at him, he shrugged. “I’ve learned to trust these two with the world. And that Jack, I suppose. But if anyone’s going to fix this, it’ll be my wife and your brother.” He smiled, big and friendly. “They’ll have it sorted in no time.”

Gwen reached out for Rhys’s hand, squeezing his fingers hard, hoping to put all her gratitude into the touch. “Please,” she said to Rhiannon. “It would take too long to explain everything, and anyway, the less you know, the safer it is for you and your family. Please, just trust us.”

Rhiannon looked at each of them in turn, sighing when she got to Ianto. “...What d’you need?”

“We need a safe place,” said Ianto immediately. “I wouldn’t ask unless it was really important. But we need a place where we can wait a bit. And I don’t necessarily mean your house, since I suspect they’ll already be watching it, but if there’s anyone else… anyone you could talk to, any favours...” he shook his head. “I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t put that on you if it was just me.”

Rhiannon frowned, as Gwen squeezed Ianto’s arm too in silent support.

“I can’t let you come to the house,” she said. “I’m sorry, Ianto. But if someone’s watching you...”

“We understand,” he said hastily. “Anywhere else you can think of?”

“A safe place...” said Rhiannon, thinking. “I could talk to Jenny round the corner, her husband–”

“Is a policeman,” finished Ianto, shaking his head. “No police.”

“Bloody hell. Are you…? I mean, if you did something...”

“We can’t explain,” interrupted Gwen. “We’re trying to do the right thing here, we promise, but the police… are on the side of the people who are after us.”

“Alright, alright...” Rhiannon frowned. “There’s that old warehouse down by the field. Dunno if they’d be watching all the way down there. Y’know, Ianto, the one the lads from school used to smoke behind.”

“...Oh! Yep,” said Ianto. “I should’ve thought of that.”

“It’s probably far enough off the estate. If they’re watching the house I reckon they won’t bother with it. Yeah?”

“Probably.”

“That sounds perfect,” said Gwen. “Thank you, Rhiannon.”

She sighed. “I’d say no problem, but...” she gave them a glare. “Just you stay safe and keep this away from me and my kids, yeah?”

“We will,” said Ianto, emphatically. “Just… keep David and Mica close, okay? Don’t let them out of your sight.”

“What’s actually going on, Ianto?”

He shook his head. “It’s too much to explain now.”

“Like hell it is,” said Rhiannon, glaring at him. “If there’s really a danger to my children...”

“We’re handling it,” said Ianto firmly. “It’s what we do.”

Rhiannon gave him an incredulous snort. “What, all three of you?”

“Yes,” put in Gwen, setting her hand on Ianto’s arm. “Well, there are four of us. Our boss, Jack, he’ll be… back soon.”

“Oh...” said Rhiannon, and Gwen saw gears turning behind her eyes. “Oh!” she said turning to Ianto. “Is he the one who, you know–”

“Yep,” interrupted Ianto, avoiding her eye; his ears turning very slight pink at the tips.

“...Is he alright?” said Rhiannon, catching his tone and furrowing her brow.

“He will be,” said Ianto nervously, his fingers clutching the strap of the holdall so tight his knuckles had gone white under the blood and grit.

Gwen laid a hand on Ianto’s arm, steadying. “Yes, he will be,” she repeated, as much to reassure herself as him. “Thank you, Rhiannon. We’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Okay,” said Rhiannon, still frowning as she looked between the three of them. “It’s just… oh, you are safe, aren’t you? Ianto...” she reached out to him, then appeared to change her mind and drew back, looking nervous.

“Rhiannon, it’ll all be fine,” said Ianto. “I promise, we just need somewhere to… regroup, wait and figure out how to fix this.”

She nodded. “I’ll walk you down there.”

“There’s really no need to–”

“It’s on the way home anyway.”

“If you take the long way around.”

“Well, maybe I’ll take the long way around. It’s good if someone’s trying to follow me, yeah Mister Secret Agent?”

“I’m not…” Ianto sighed, rolling his eyes as Rhiannon gave him a pointed look. “Okay, fine. Come on then.”


	6. Chapter 6

Rhiannon had left them at the door of the corrugated metal structure, with a slightly stiff hug for Ianto and a nod for Gwen and Rhys. Ianto had watched from the door for just a little too long to successfully hide his nervousness as she hurried away, while Gwen had taken the chance to survey the space.

It wasn’t much, but then they didn’t need much; just a place to wait out Jack’s… well. Whatever was going to happen with Jack.

A little while later and they’d laid out the parts of him they’d collected on some plastic sheeting Ianto had found, in the cleanest, driest corner of the old warehouse, covered with a tarpaulin they’d stolen from a building site earlier. Gwen sighed, spotting Ianto sitting on a crate at the opposite end of the long, low-ceilinged space. She and Rhys were lingering just inside the entrance, keeping one eye always on the narrow crack in the door and the slice of scrubby grass and graffitied concrete they could see, in case of movement. Gwen didn’t dare open it fully in case someone noticed, so this was a compromise. It made her nervous, but she supposed no one had killed them yet. Which was an improvement.

And so far everything was quiet. Gwen leaned into Rhys, who put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze, pressing a kiss to her hair as they watched Ianto busying himself rummaging through the pockets of his suit jacket.

“Is he gonna be okay with this?” Rhys asked her quietly. “You know. With Jack…?”

Gwen sighed. “ _Okay_ is a strong word,” she said, very glad for Rhys’s warmth at her side. “But I couldn’t stop him if I tried.”

“Course not,” said Rhys, sighing. “...Poor lad, though.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” said Gwen, her heart aching as they watched Ianto unearth some rolled-up paper scraps and a pencil stub from his pocket and begin to scribble something down, using a second crate as a rudimentary table. “I think the waiting is getting to him. It’s getting to me too.”

“You should go be there him then. ...And with Jack, when he... you know,” said Rhys, apprehensively. “Go on. I’ll watch the door.”

“If anyone comes–”

“I’ll yell. Don’t worry, love.”

She smiled, putting her hand on his cheek and turning his face to hers for a long, grateful kiss that all but brought tears to her eyes; she’d missed kisses from Rhys, as short a period in relative terms as they’d been apart. After the time they’d had though, Gwen found she needed the comfort more than ever. He smiled against her mouth, giving her one last peck on the lips and then a little push towards the other end of the warehouse. “Go on.”

She went, crossing the dusty space to where Ianto was hunched over whatever he was doing. She took care to approach from the side in his peripheral vision; she didn’t think he’d react well to being snuck up on right now, or at least she knew she herself wouldn’t.

She drew up another crate and sat beside him. He raised his head in comfortable acknowledgement, and went back to what he was doing. Curious, Gwen peered over his shoulder to look.

In front of Ianto was a handwritten list, on the reverse side of a torn and dog-eared page of Torchwood letterhead. It read:

_Order of operations (per loop):_

_(1) Find Gwen. ✓  
(2) Find Rhys. ✓  
(3) Find Jack. ✓  
(3.1) Preferably extract from Hub site before Johnson does. ✓  
(3.2) If this is not possible, rescue from secure facility.  
(3.2.1) Blow up secure facility? (If time/resources etc.)  
(3.3) Find Jack some clothes.  
_ _(4) Check on Rhiannon and the family. ✓  
(4.1) Try not to worry Rhiannon unduly. ✓?  
(4.2) Advise her to get Mica and David somewhere safe in advance of collection of children for the 456? (Where?)  
(5) Obtain extra money, transport, electronic devices, ammunition.  
(6) Obtain new clothes/disguises, food and drink, sundries, etc.  
(7) Get to London.  
(8) Make sure Alice and Steven Carter are safe, and cannot be used to blackmail Jack.  
(8.1) If possible, get them to a safe place before Johnson is sent out to capture them.  
(8.2) If this is not possible, rescue them from wherever they’re being held. (How?)  
_ _(9) Make contact with Lois Habiba to obtain additional intelligence?  
(9.1) Send Gwen? Lois seems to trust her.  
(9.2) Would be useful to have copy of contact lens footage to use as leverage material.  
(10) Infiltrate Thames House. (Under what pretext?)  
(10.1) Blackmail way in with footage?  
(10.2) Bring additional hazard suits/breathing apparatus if pretext allows.  
(10.2.1) (Just in case.)  
(11) Sabotage 456 tank. (How? Bullets don’t work. Crowbar? Pick lock to get inside? Steal heavy machinery?)  
(11.1) Potentially compromise or poison the 456 atmosphere? (With what?)  
(12) If the above doesn’t work, disrupt collection of children, or find a way to get the word out about what’s really happening?  
(13) Put everything back to normal (somehow)  
_

“Ianto, are you making a numbered to-do list?” Gwen couldn’t help a fond chuckle as she peered over Ianto’s shoulder to read. “Oh. Um, number thirteen sounds a little... ambitious.”

“It’s _aspirational._ ”

“It certainly is that. Where are we now, around about step four and a bit?”

Ianto put down his pencil. “I’m thinking ahead. Anyway, I like making lists,” he said, slightly defensively. “I know it doesn’t help, but it does make me feel a little bit better about this entire situation.”

“Fair enough,” said Gwen, sitting down beside him and putting her hand on his. “How’s Jack?”

Ianto’s eyes twitched to the tarpaulin. Gwen thought the form underneath it seemed to have a bit more bulk than before, but perhaps that was only wishful thinking.

Ianto frowned. “His body is reforming. ...Sort of,” he said, with a slight grimace. “It’ll be a bit longer though.”

“I guess it would be,” said Gwen, with a sigh.

“All we can do is wait.” He frowned at her. “Maybe you should try to get some rest.”

“What? Nonsense, I’m fine.” But despite everything, she found herself yawning even as she said the words. Suddenly, she was sagging down beside him on the crate, immediately aware of her own exhaustion. It made sense, of course; her sense of time was all shaken up with the loops, and so she barely knew how long it had been since the first repeat had sent them back to the beginning of the week. But if Gwen had to guess, she and Ianto must have missed at least two full nights of sleep from their own linear perspective, and she was starting to really feel it, her thoughts messy and overwhelmed. To further complicate the matter though, her body didn’t feel as tired as her mind did; only bruised and aching. She supposed that made sense with the way their bodies reset on each loop. She knew she’d feel the strained muscles and the bruises even worse tomorrow, simply because she already had.

But it didn’t change the fact that mentally, they’d been awake for a very long time indeed. It was disorientating to say the least.

Clearly Ianto felt it too, because as she leaned against his side, she felt him lean back against her. “How does sleeping work with this?” he said, echoing her thoughts from a moment ago. “What about eating?”

“I dunno, but we should probably do both at some point. Yes, you too,” she chided.

“I don’t know if I could sleep right now if I tried,” said Ianto.

Gwen sighed; she knew the feeling. Despite her exhaustion and her scattered state, part of her felt wired with leftover adrenaline, still on high alert after all their constant running. So instead she leaned down to the rucksack she’d packed at her flat, rooting around for a bit before pulling out the water bottle and the now hopelessly crushed-up pack of Hobnobs. She untwisted the plastic and offered it to Ianto, who smiled wearily and took a half and some bits of biscuit rubble.

“You should be eating more,” he chided, as they munched Hobnobs and passed the water back and forth. “Also, maybe we should try and get… I don’t know… fruit and vegetables, next time. ...What _are_ you supposed to eat when you’re pregnant?”

“Shh! I still haven’t told Rhys this loop!” she hissed, glancing back to where Rhys was standing guard by the exit in the opposite corner.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “So, tell him then.”

“Not here. Not like this.” She frowned. “Anyway, if we die then I’ll just have to tell him all over again. I want to wait until things are more certain.”

He looked as though he wanted to argue, but then subsided, putting the last piece of biscuit in his mouth and dusting crumbs fastidiously off the front of his jacket, covered though he was in dust and blood and who knew what else. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I understand.”

“Thanks.” She sighed. “...It’s just… honestly, I am _scared_ , Ianto,” she admitted. “I’m so scared. That first loop… the children...” she swallowed back a nervous sob. “What they were doing… we’ve got to stop it. But I have no idea how, and I’m so scared. All the time.”

“I know, Gwen,” he sighed. “Me too.”

“It’ll be better when Jack’s back,” she said, as much to reassure herself as for him. “He’ll be able to fix this.”

“I hope so,” said Ianto, eyes flicking to the tarpaulin once more; nothing appeared to have changed.

They both fell into tired silence for a little while, after that, Gwen’s mind roaming at random over the things they’d seen, the way they’d got here.

Rhiannon had both been what she’d expected and rather different. Gwen was rather charmed by the fact that she found she _could_ see the resemblance to Ianto, sort of; it was more in their mannerisms and the way they acted than obvious physical features – though they both had the same noses – but there was something there, a shared history that was oddly fascinating to Gwen. Because as well as she knew Ianto, she knew this was a part of his life that he’d always kept fastidiously separate from Torchwood. Still, all of this had been his world, once.

“Did your dad really break your leg?” said Gwen after a while.

Ianto frowned. “He pushed me too hard on the swing. He always did. Rhiannon says I should’ve held on tighter. ...I’m beginning to wonder if maybe she was right.”

Gwen snorted. “That sounds like rubbish if ever I heard it. Would you say that about another kid, eh?” She put her hand on her stomach again. “Would you say that about _my_ kid?”

“No!” Ianto said, blinking at her in surprise. “No, but that’s different...”

“Nope. It’s the same, Ianto,” said Gwen. “Yeah?”

“I s’pose,” he mumbled, not looking terribly convinced, and above all very reluctant to talk about it.

She sighed, stroking his arm. “I’m sorry I brought it up… bad time, I know. We should rest.”

“Yeah.”

But though they both tried to relax against one another again, Gwen’s mind was far too full for sleep. She knew Ianto was awake too, the hush between them filled with thoughts and unsaid things, tense when it should have been peaceful. Gwen was beginning to wonder if either of them would ever understand what _peaceful_ meant ever again.

It was Gwen who broke the hush again, after a few minutes spent pondering Ianto’s list and trying to think of increasingly desperate plans.

“I was wondering,” she said, “I really hate to ask you this, but… how much do you remember about… the first loop? The very end of it I mean, when you and Jack...” she swallowed, thinking back to then. “...When you died the first time. Did you see anything weird, or...”

Ianto snorted. “I dunno, really. I wasn’t paying much attention. Too busy dying.”

“Yeah, of course, I’m sorry,” she said. “Just… I was thinking, maybe if Jack did something? It could’ve been what started the looping. Might help us put an end to it.”

Ianto was shaking his head. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. None of it’s very clear.”

“Right, well. What do you actually remember?”

He hesitated. “Um… I remember... falling down, lying in Jack’s arms and staring up at his face. There were, um, emergency sirens, red lights and stuff, and… and Jack was shouting something at that creature in the tank. Not that it did any good. And I told him...” he swallowed thickly, “I told him I loved him, and that I wanted him to remember me, and… he kissed me, I think. It was all starting to get a bit blurry by then.” He stared for a moment, as though looking through her. “Nothing weird though,” he added hastily, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing that could explain all this.”

“...Oh, _Ianto_.” Gwen reached out and squeezed his hand, interlacing her fingers with his and rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it all back.”

“’S’fine.” Ianto wiped at his face roughly with the back of his sleeve. She didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop it, or else risk getting dirt in the cut on his face. They’d probably be dead again before long anyway. “We’re both back now, aren’t we?

“Yeah,” said Gwen, her heart aching. “Yeah, at least there’s that.” She frowned, thinking back to what he’d said. “Ianto… you know, don’t you, Jack–”

“Gwen! Look!” he interrupted her, patting her on the arm.

“What? What is it?” she blinked, following his pointing finger in alarm. Her eyes widened, as she saw a very slight movement, a shifting of the tarpaulin they’d pulled over Jack. “Oh...”

Ianto had already dropped to his knees beside him, lifting the corner of the tarpaulin and peering underneath. She saw him catch his breath, raising his head. “This is… not going to be nice,” he said. “For anyone.”

She knelt down with him. “I’m here, Ianto. I’ll stay with you, and him.”

“No,” he said. “You should… you should keep Rhys away. He shouldn’t see this.”

“Rhys can handle–”

“He’s not Torchwood, and besides…” Ianto breathed in, as though to keep himself from crying, “Jack wouldn’t want him to see this.”

Gwen sighed, knowing what Ianto meant; he meant, of course, that Jack wouldn’t want anyone else to see him so vulnerable, to see his pain that would surely come, and would be terrible when it did. She took a breath, laying her hand on Ianto’s shoulder and pushing herself back to her feet, to be rewarded with Ianto’s grateful smile.

“You and Jack need anything, we’ll be right here.”

“I know, Gwen. Thank you.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Always.”


End file.
